


Beyond the Sunset

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Category: Hamish MacBeth (TV)
Genre: Bit of Comfort, F/M, Making up my own ending, Miscarriage but nothing graphic, Post-Series, The Ghost of TV John, We need more Hamish x Isobel!, Wee Jock the Westie, bit of angst, bit of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of TV John's death and the Stone of Destiny, Hamish remains close to Isobel even as she returns to her journalism career. Their future looks most promising...until a tragedy strikes in an unexpected place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Isobel is mentioned by a ghost (watch the finale if that confuses you,) as being pregnant with Hamish's child. So miscarriage triggers all around, and I've no idea how you'd get over that, but this was a great show and I'm writing my own take on the ending here.

Two months after poor TV John died, Hamish was dealt another blow: Isobel miscarried.

Nine weeks old, the doctors claimed, much to early to show or know if it was a boy of a girl. Just the age when bones start forming.

Isobel had slipped getting out the tub. If she didn't have a neighbor coming over, she might've died too. At the time, Isobel had only known she was pregnant for five days.

"I didn't know what to tell you," she confessed, face buried against his shirt while Hamish held her in the hospital bed.

It was both a surprisingly short and excruciatingly long trip up to Edinburgh to the hospital, after Isobel's friend Mary called him with the news. He got their just as visiting hours opened for the day and had no trouble tracking down her room. Isobel looked tiny and fragile lying in the bed, and burst into tears as soon as he gingerly took her hand. They'd sat there since, alternating between spells of broken sobs and deathly silence, until Isobel made her confession now.

Hamish kissed the top of her head. "I wouldn't have known what to say."

He couldn't very well tell her _Mr. McIver_ had shown up claiming that she was pregnant two months ago, not without an orderly taking him to a very different section of the hospital. But that was the truth: How the hell was he supposed to be a father when he had only just learned to say "I love you" to a beautiful, patient angel of a woman who put up with his sorry ass?

They had a week together after The Stone of Destiny misadventure, mostly spent enjoying their new intimacy and talking about everything and nothing. Isobel promised to call as soon as she got back to her flat, and every night at nine the called and talked. That's how it had been for two months, and while halfway through the second Hamish had been tempted by a pretty tourist, he found himself comparing the girl's sky-blue eyes to Isobel's soft brown ones and realized it would be a mistake before he'd even made it. He was rather proud of himself for not screwing things up so soon, and thought there might be hope yet for this indeterminable relationship yet.

Bringing a child into the mix would have been a mistake now...but...but _this_ was not was he was expecting at all when a ghost popped into John's caravan and said he and Isobel should've really thought about contraceptives on that mountain.

Good god, what had his life become?

* * *

 

Isobel took a leave of absence from her job and didn't protest when Hamish offered to take her back to Lochdubh to rest.

Well, rest as much as she could in a town like Lochdubh.

The first three days were quiet, broken by a few well-wishers and a very concerned Esme who'd made it her business to tell Isobel she was welcome at her home anytime she needed a break from Hamish. While Hamish was there. Holding the bag of groceries Esme fairly threw at him when she came in.

Surely their past record wasn't that much of a cause for alarm...right?

On the fourth day, which Isobel woke to curled up on Hamish's chest clutching at his t-shirt, the telephone started ringing and Hamish ( _reluctantly having to get out of bed at four-thirty in the morning_ ) answered a frantic call about aliens in the fields.

On the fifth day, half the town was scanning the skies for UFOs. On the seventh, Hamish brought a couple of teenagers into the station and sat the boys in one cell and the two girls in another, telling them that their parents would be coming to get them. (That seemed much worse than a prison sentence, the way their faces turned white.) On the seventh night Hamish climbed into bed, grumbling about how maybe now he could sleep until the next crisis.

Isobel laughed for the first time in a week and kissed him. It went a long way in improving both of their moods.

* * *

 

Isobel spent the eighth morning taking a walk. Physically she felt okay, it wasn't like there was a bump or anything when... _it_ happened. But sometimes she felt empty. Hamish worried over her, (as did anyone who stopped to talk with her, but that was Lochdubh, _Home of the Forward and Ignorant in the Nicest Way Possib_ le,) but Isobel felt she'd be okay. Someday.

She hadn't wanted children. She wanted to be a journalist, and maybe someday she'd change her mind,-she was young enough to have some time yet,-but she wanted a man she could depend on. She loved Hamish...but their relationship, as close to stable as they'd ever been, was still so new and fragile. When she found out she was pregnant, she was afraid. What was she supposed to do?

What if Hamish decided he didn't want her? What if he did something so stupid she finally had to give up? She considered adoption, but had to talk with Hamish about that. Perhaps the cruelest thing of all was that never once did " **termination** " cross her mind. It wasn't the baby's fault, why kill it? And in the end, it was gone any way.

Isobel was glad the station was in sight. Her face felt extra cold in the wind, and she knew she was crying now.

* * *

 

A car of travelers who'd gotten turned around and needed directions greeted Hamish when he was patrolling the outer roads of Lochdubh. The man at the wheel insisted they weren't lost, his wife couldn't read a map. The wife turned the color of a boiled shrimp and glared at the back of her husband's head, (even Hamish wouldn't be so stupid, and that was saying something,) but a small voice from the backseat chirped, "But Da, didn't Mum say you passed the road signs a little while ago?"

Peering a little over the man's shoulder revealed a small girl with a frizzy mass of blonde curls and big gray eyes like the man's. The man shushed her, and then a piercing wail went up and the little girl added unnecessarily, "You woke Billy!"

The mother hopped out the car to get around to the rear door by Hamish, unbuckling and withdrawing a tiny bairn with a dusting of soft dark hair and eyes that were still blue. "I know, I know, hush baby," the mother cooed, bouncing the baby as she went around to the boot of their SUV. "Daddy got us lost and Mummy's upset too."

"We are not lost, we just took a wrong turn!"

"What's the difference Da?"

"We're not lost Eliza, now let me speak to the Constable."

Two weeks ago, Hamish might've fought the urge to laugh at the entire scene. As it was, he gave them directions, back the way they came and left at the fork in the road instead of right, ("That's what Mum said too!" "Is it? Well you've got a good navigator at the helm then, Miss Eliza." "What's a nagivator Mum?" "The person who knows where they're going. Right Andrew?" "Yes love. Thank you Constable, good-bye.") and waved them off.

The image of the dark-haired woman holding a dark-haired baby wouldn't leave his mind until he walked through the door at the station.

* * *

 

Hamish kissed Isobel's forehead when he got home.

"Hey."

"Hey," she smiled, winding her arms around him and pressing her face against his throat. Isobel was shorter than every man she'd ever met, but Hamish didn't tower over her. She felt just the right size when she was next to him.

Hamish must've felt the same, because he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek against her hair.

"How was your day?"

"Okay. Catch any ice cream-loving thieves?"

Hamish groaned and lightly pushed her away in mock irritation. "I never should have told you that. You aren't going to do a story on that, are you?"

Isobel giggled a little, pressing back into his arms. It was getting easier to laugh. "I think it would be easier to write a whole book about Lochdubh, or maybe a series."

They ate dinner and made small talk. Isobel fed Jock (he wouldn't take food from Hamish while she was around...) while Hamish put the dishes in the sink.

"I didn't catch any thieves, but I did send a lost car on it's way."

"Oh?"

"The man insisted his wife couldn't read the map right, and she was about to lay into him when their little girl in the backseat piped up. Chatty little thing, she was, blamed her da for waking her brother up. I wanted to laugh but..."

Isobel pressed her lips together, sitting on her knees. "But...what?"

"But, well, the brother was this wee bairn, with dark hair...like it's mum...and I-I dunno, really. It wouldn't leave me alone. It's kind of stupid, I don't know what I'd do with a baby, I'm lucky to remember to feed my dog some days, but...oh damn it, Isobel please, _please_  don't cry, I'm sorry."

Isobel didn't realize tears were rolling down her face until Hamish crouched down and wiped them away. She breathed a weak laugh and wrapped her arms around the bewildered constable.

"Hamish if it had been us in that van, you know damn well I wouldn't let you drive. You'd get lost driving farther than Iverness."

"I...I can't argue with that," he blinked. "Would I hold the map then?"

Isobel's smile felt odd, stretching her tear-stained face. Odd but welcome. "You could try, but could you read it?"

"Heh, probably not. Lucky my job doesn't require great amounts of travel then."

Isobel crawled into his lap, and Hamish held her. If they'd had their child, God knew what would have happened. It still felt like a fresh cut, threatening to tear open and bleed if you pressed it wrong, but...but Isobel was starting to think they might move past this.

"What would you do if you weren't a constable Hamish?" she asked.

They'd been working on talking lately. It was one thing to talk over the phone, but it was slightly harder face-to-face. Isobel felt a flare of insecurity when Hamish mentioned a pretty Australian tourist that passed through weeks ago, and it took a few minutes to realize he'd taken a chance in confessing she was pretty and assuring her he'd only given her directions. Asking around town to confirm it, discreetly, had made Isobel realize she had her own issues to work on.

But she'd had her fill of serious talk tonight.

"Hmm...I have no idea," he shrugged at length. "Never thought about it."

"Really? You just always wanted to be a constable?"

"Well, I always wanted to stay in Lochdubh. I figured being the constable would serve that purpose later on."

"You never wanted to, I dunno, be a soldier?"

"Am I good at following orders? No."

"Or, um, an astronaut?"

"I'd get lost on the other side of the universe, no way."

"A business man?"

"You've seen my office, I hate paperwork too much."

"Hmm, what about a priest?"

"Now you're being daft," he laughed, tickling her side until she squirmed. "Me, a priest? I'd sooner be the guy who checks your bags at the train station!"

Isobel began to giggle, and quickly retaliated with her fingers shooting under Hamish's navy blue jumper and attacking his sides. He let out a whoop of surprise and fell on his back, pulling Isobel down on top of him.

Jock finished his kibble and watched his humans wrestle around on the floor until they started pressing their mouths together. He trotted away, finding their new game boring to watch and curling up on the sofa to nap...

* * *

It was five months since the miscarriage, and she'd long since returned to work. Halfway through the fourth month, they'd had a fight that nearly ended this thing once and for all when he went up to surprise her for her birthday. They'd gone to a bar, drank a bit too much, and collapsed into bed in a tangled heap.

 _Without_ condoms.

He'd said something stupid he couldn't even remember now because Isobel was just shy of panicking. Considering hers was the body that bled out another human life, he could see in hindsight why she would react so violently to whatever it was. One thing led to another and he stormed back to Lochdubh, mad and upset and confused all at once. The upset and confusion lingered for awhile, until his resolve to let her burn out her anger and come to him fizzled and he called.

_"Hello?"_

"I'm sorry," he blurted out before she could hang up like he feared she was going to when he spoke. ""I didn't mean what I said, Christ, I just-I just don't think about what I say, and I am so sorry I upset you Isobel. I do love you, I love you so much I can't help...crap what the hell I'm I doing? I'm sorry."

It was silent for so long, the thought she'd hung up.

_"I'm sorry too Hamish. I...I overreacted, a little, but it was-What did you even say to me?"_

"Uh...was it...was it something like, 'Maybe nothing will happen?' I think that was it."

A shaky laugh from the other end sounded real, weak but real. _"It was a safe day, so, well, nothing will happen."_

Hamish had enough experience to understand that. "Okay. Look, uh, I-Isobel? I mean it. I love you. I miss you when you're not here, and it's not just in my bed, y'know? I miss you. Someday I'd like to marry you, but I-I want to make sure I'll make you happy first. Does that make sense to you?"

Isobel was quite for a long time again. _"Yeah, I think it does. I don't like arguing with you."_

"Me either. But...but if we do, can we just talk? Instead of...whatever the hell it was we were doing before? Dancing around each other, waiting for one to make a move?"

_"Hoping the other person wouldn't throw you aside for the next girl?"_

Ouch. "Aye, uh, aye. I deserved that one..."

He could almost here Isobel smile through the phone. "I'd like that, talking. I've got to go now Hamish, I've got an early day tomorrow. I love you."

"Aye. Love you too Isobel."

Hamish flopped onto the couch, nearly scaring Jock off of it. He ruffled his Westie's ears fondly and chuckled. "I think I've had a breakthrough today boy, what do you think?"

* * *

 

Nearly a year (and one more fight,) after the miscarriage, Isobel woke up one morning alone in bed at the Lochdubh police station.

They talked about marriage and children now and then, but they were still fine-tuning things. With miscommunication more or less off the table, things went a hell of a lot smoother. She grabbed Hamish's white t-shirt and pulled it on over her head, shuffled to the unoccupied bathroom. If Hamish wasn't in there, she assumed he was in the kitchen, and once she dried her hands she made that her next stop.

Hamish was talking to someone in the kitchen, she could hear them before she rounded the corner. Isobel hesitated, as she wasn't exactly dressed for company in panties and her boyfriend's oversized t-shirt. But:

"Aye, I told you a long time ago lad, there was a selkie calling to you too!"

"Yes, yes, I remember John, and I bow to your superior wisdom."

_Holy-_

"Hamish," Isobel slowly, slowly rounded the corner. "Who are you talking...to..."

Hamish was lounging in a kitchen chair, stubbing out a cigarette in the ashtray before rising to greet her, clad in just his jeans. Standing nearby was an older man with kindly blue eyes and a familiar tam-o'-shanter hat, wearing clothes so familiar if Isobel hadn't seen the explosion herself she'd say he'd wore everyday. But he hadn't. Because "TV" John McIver had been dead for more than a year.

"Good morning Isobel."

And he just wished her good morning.

Hamish had come to her and kissed her cheek, but Isobel registered that a little late. "Hamish, that's John. Why is John here?"

"You never told her?" John sounded affronted, and Isobel's head was starting to spin. Hamish wrapped his arms around her middle from behind and nuzzled her ear.

"Easy lass," he murmured. "It's real, this is happening."

"Oh...ohh-kay, but _why_ is it happening?"

"Well if Hamish _had_ told you," John began in that achingly familiar tone of mild annoyance. "You'd have known I could come back as a spirit. Well, recently, how long did you say I've been gone Hamish? A year? It's surprisingly difficult to manifest yourself in the physical world, at least so you can be seen and heard."

"How long have we been in the _Twilight Zone_?" Isobel asked, turning to Hamish with wide eyes.

"Not long, he scared the daylights out of me when I went fishing the other day. I fell in the river and my catch got away."

"I did apologize," John added, and Isobel took a deep breath. It really must've been the ghost of TV John in their kitchen. Fishing was sacred to him and Hamish in a way she would never understand.

"Well...it's nice to see you again," a smile found it's way to her lips and she relaxed against Hamish's front.

John grinned. "It's nice to see you too, Isobel. I can't say how happy I am that Hamish didn't ruin things between you."

"Hey!"

"He's done some growing up," Isobel giggled, and Hamish bumped her temple with an annoyed grunt. "You'd be proud."

"Aye, I think I can see that."

* * *

 

Four years to the day TV John died, (and roughly three years since he started popping up as a ghost, ah Lochdubh and her infinite surprises,) Isobel Macbeth gave birth to a healthy seven-pound baby boy. By then, the elderly editor of the local paper had died and Isobel decided to fill the position. She kept her journalism career and married P.C. Macbeth, much to their mutual delight.

The little Macbeth was named John Robert Macbeth, and he had a soft tuft of dark hair atop his little head and eyes that had darkened to the lighter brown of his father's. There may have been bets going around about how long it would take Johnny Macbeth to start getting into trouble like Hamish had been somewhat infamous for as a lad. There was contention over whether or not yanking on Doc Brown's long, curly hair during his first-year checkup counted.

TV John was rather delighted by his namesake, and Jock was extremely curious about the tiny human who entered his domain. He had taken to barking at anyone who got too close to Isobel at seven months along, up until she gave birth. Hamish disavowed training him to be a guard dog, and was widely believed because at one point Jock wouldn't even let Hamish stand near Isobel in the house.

When they decided to try for a child, Isobel had initially approved. But when she got pregnant she was scared to death of losing their baby again until Hamish took a chance: "Well I suppose I'll be taking my showers with you now."

It made Isobel laugh and while the shower was occupied by two people more than once, it was seldom for the reason of bathing.

Most people liked to think that Hamish and Isobel didn't know about the bet. When they got married, a couple of people (a third of the town really,) had placed bets on how long it would last. Six months saw Esme slipping Agnes a few bills on the street, their trip to the Stag Bar was highlighted by Barney paying Lachie Sr. and giving him an extra drink. The second year mark, Isobel came home laughing with Johnny on her hip and saying she heard Lachie Jr. saying something to Rory about how since he owed him anyway, he shouldn't mind if he was short a fiver.

The exact terms of the town-wide bet were a mystery, but tucked into bed with an arm around Isobel, Hamish sincerely couldn't wait to see what the third year was going to look like.

**Author's Note:**

> X's and O's to anyone who can guess who the "tourist" is. *wiggles eyebrows* I totally support all forms of Anyelle, (this breed is "Bellish", by the way,) but I think Hamish could stick with Isobel because she's good for him. And when he isn't being a retard (love him to death, but he can be sooo stupid!) about emotions, Hamish is really sweet to her too. Even when Isobel goes off and becomes a reporter, you're rooting for them to work stuff out because their obviously mad about each other.  
> Hmm...  
> This may be a proto-Rumbelle ship.


End file.
